


"Friends"

by Blunette (Hoshikuzu_san)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Don't worry, Dorky Duo, Fluff, M/M, Memory Loss, Oneshot, Post-War, memory returns later on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 06:48:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5617375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoshikuzu_san/pseuds/Blunette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a potions accident that Draco really doesn't feel is his fault ("You were taunting him!" Hermione cried), Potter loses his memory, and Snape deems Draco responsible for his care. Draco decides to, just maybe, treat Potter nicely. So he won't lose any House Points, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Friends"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Graffiti_Kami](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Graffiti_Kami/gifts).



> This is my first HP fanfic, so be gentle ;v;  
> Gift for my sister because she's the one who introduced me to this toxic rubbish.

"Seeing as you were the one who gave him the potion, it only seems fitting that you be the one in charge of him until his memory returns," Snape sneered.

"But,  _ Professor _ ," Hermione gaped, "Malfoy has been out to get Harry since they met! You shouldn't entrust Harry to him when he’s so vulnerable."

"I didn't  _ mean  _ to make a memory-loss potion," Draco rolled his eyes, "it was an accident. I mixed up the newt and goat tongues. I was too distracted by  _ Potter _ charging over, like the uncouth brute he is, and knocking the stuff all over himself. I, personally, don't see how  _ any _ of this is my fault."

"You were taunting him!" Hermione cried.

Draco sniffed, turning up his nose at her. "That doesn't mean he had to start throwing a fit. If he had any self control, he wouldn’t have spilled my cauldron."

"You're clearly at fault, Mr. Malfoy, and I expect you to take responsibility," Snape narrowed his eyes threateningly. "Should Potter complain about a  _ single  _ thing when his memory returns, there will be consequences."

It was Draco's turn to gape.

"Potter  _ despises _ me, he'll just make stuff up to get me in trouble!"

"Then I suppose it would be in your best interest to not  _ taunt  _ Mr. Potter during his stay in your dorm. Weren’t you speaking of self control, earlier?"

Before Draco could complain any more, Snape lifted his hand, clearly dismissing them. 

Hermione shot him a glare as they stood.

"If you do  _ anything  _ to Harry, I won't forgive you," she snapped before turning on her heel and leaving the room. Draco glared at Snape, who had the nerve to raise an eyebrow in response, before following suit. He saw a certain boy sitting in the waiting room, head down and hands fidgeting.

Draco wanted to throttle his temporary roommate, to blame this whole mess on him, but Snape's threat lingered on his mind. While his house would  _ not  _ be pleased with him babysitting a Gryffindor, they would be even more pissed if he also lost house points.

Taking a deep breath, coincidentally a good way of swallowing pride, Draco strode over. 

The boy looked up when he drew near, a nervous smile eventually finding its way on his face.

"H-hello?" he greeted timidly. Draco withheld a scoff. Potter? Timid?  _ Please _ . However, he  _ was  _ lacking many of his memories. Though begrudgingly, Draco could admit that if he woke up one day with no idea where he was or who to trust, he might be a little hesitant, too.

"Hello," he settled with saying, shifting awkwardly on one foot. "You don't remember me, but I'm Draco Malfoy. We're...  _ friends _ ," he said slowly, looking for any kind of rebuttal.

Curious eyes stared back at him, no recognition whatsoever on his face.

"Until all your memories return,” the blond continued, “you're going to be staying in Slytherin house... with me. You're usually in Gryffindor, so don't expect to find anything familiar, but your memories should return in a couple days."

"Alright," Harry said simply. He stood, then smiled anxiously. 

"Alright," Draco echoed, then turned. "Come along, then. Looks like I'll have to introduce you to the others."

People stared as they walked down the halls, a certain Hermione Granger glaring at him resignedly. Weasley, on the other hand, was nearly foaming at the mouth, looking  _ furious _ .

Draco picked up the pace, and Harry scurried after him.

"Draco?" he asked after they descended a row of stairs.

"Hm?" Malfoy replied, distracted as he imagined how his own friends would take the news.

"I- We're close right?"

Draco stiffened.

Was he remembering something?

"Why do you ask?" he replied, deftly avoiding the question. Harry frowned at him, looking puzzled.

"I feel really lost,” he admitted. “I know my memory's gone, but... But none of this seems even remotely familiar. My name - my name was familiar enough that when Professor Snape said it, I didn't question him. But right now, I'm just... I feel lost." He looked helpless, standing on the last step, eyes pleading for some kind of help.

Draco, not quite sure what to do, ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

"Look, I can't promise it'll feel familiar," he began slowly, "but we'll at least help you until you're better. Let me take care of you," he held out a hand, face flushing a bit when he realized he was acting just like the protagonist in some romance novel Pansy would read. "Let me ground you," he corrected himself.

"Ground me?" Potter asked, eyes wide, but he still reached forward to take Draco's hand.

Draco turned away, gently tugging Harry along behind him and using it as an excuse to avoid looking at the boy. This was mortifying.

"When you feel really lost, just come and get me. I'll be the constant in your life until your memories return," he explained, a little peeved by this fact. Snape was really milking this punishment for all it was worth.

Harry squeezed his hand for a moment, as if showing his thanks without voicing it.

Draco squeezed back.

Soon enough, they were at the Slytherin common room. Draco released Harry's hand when they entered, and gestured to the room, filled to the brim with other witches and wizards playing card games and spin the bottle.

"Draco?" Blaise asked, confused and looking a little on edge.

"Fellow Slytherin," Draco ignored him in favor of addressing the entire room. It wasn't hard, as everyone had gone quiet as soon as he'd entered. "Until further notice, Harry is under my watch. Any questions?"

"Ye-"

"None? Good. He will be treated as a fellow Slytherin until his memories return. No one will be giving Snape  _ any  _ reason to even  _ threaten  _ deducting points, yeah?”

Without waiting for any more inquiries, Draco strode across the room to situate himself by Blaise, Pansy, and a few other Slytherin. Harry followed silently, and stayed just as quiet when introductions were made. To Draco's surprise and pride, his friends treated Potter just like he belonged, only sharing wickedly amused grins when the boy looked elsewhere.

As the others began complaining about Transfiguration class, Draco turned to Harry, regarding the slouched figure and fidgeting hands.

Harry felt lost.

Casually reaching over, he took one of Harry's hands and gave it an encouraging squeeze.

Harry looked at him, smiled softly, and squeezed back.

* * *

"Your dorm is under water?" Harry asked, voice filled with awe as he admired the green-filled windows.

"You should see it in the morning, when the inhabitants are more active," Draco smirked. "Sometimes, you'll even see a tentacle from the giant squid."

"That's brilliant," Harry turned to grin at him.

Draco was still highly unused to Potter regarding him with anything other than distaste, so he abruptly changed topics.

"None of your clothing is here, but tomorrow we can owl one of your Gryffindor friends to send something over. For now, I hope it wouldn't bother you too terribly to borrow something of mine."

"As long as you don't mind, thank you." Harry just kept smiling. 

Smiling back awkwardly, Draco reached into his wardrobe to pull out something Potter could wear.

He looked at his clothing, then back at Potter.

"I don't think-" Harry began.

"Me neither," Draco snorted. "I'll enlarge it. I hadn't been counting on you being so fat," he mocked.

"I'm not," Harry sniffed, raising his nose in a distinctly Slytherin-like manner. "I'm just more muscled than you are. I'm twice as strong as half the kids in our grade," he insisted, though his goofy smile and exaggerated flexing showed he was exaggerating.

"Two times zero is still zero." Draco grinned wickedly.

"You're such an arse!"

"You love it." Draco fluttered his eyelashes.

"Enlarge the bloody pajamas," Harry laughed.

Doing just that, Draco then levitated the clothing over to his roommate, who took them gratefully.

"Thanks, mate."

"Not going to complain about all the green?" Draco asked, genuinely curious as he began rooting around for his own pajamas.

"What? Of course not, especially when you're being so generous. Besides, green is a nice color. You must get tired of it, though, since it seems to be everywhere in here." He glanced around the room.

Draco shrugged. "A little, but I usually just sleep in a white t-shirt and boxers."

"Oh, you don't have to sleep differently just for me-"

Draco held up a hand. "I refuse to let you see me in such an undignified state. You'll already have more than enough blackmail material when you see my unflattering bed head."

"Oh?" Harry leaned forward, grinning.

"I daresay it's even worse than your hair," Draco admitted.

"Hey!"

Draco just smirked before hopping over his bed and walking towards the attached bathroom. "Come on, I'll grab you a toothbrush.”

“Ensuring I meet your hygiene standards?” Harry sneered playfully, but still followed.

Draco scoffed at his comment as he grabbed a new toothbrush from beneath the sink. He handed it to Potter, who began unwrapping it, and finally answered with a pompous, “I’m not certain you could  _ ever _ meet my standards, Potter.”

“I’m brushing my teeth, aren’t I?” Harry ran the brush beneath the water before grabbing the jar of minty paste and wordlessly spelling a dollop on his brush. Draco followed suit, and soon they were both scrubbing at their teeth.

Draco, in some random act of competitiveness, refused to spit before Potter did.

Harry met his eyes in the mirror.

He smirked, and began brushing with more fervor. Draco copied, but he was struggling to hold all the excess foam in his mouth, and was honestly beginning to resemble a chipmunk. Potter did, too, but seemed completely unphased by how full his mouth was.

Draco wondered what other things could fill that mouth, and promptly choked. He was forced to spit in the sink or die from the froth. 

Looking far too smug, Harry continued scrubbing.

“Sod off, Potter,” he grumbled, rinsing his mouth and scowling the whole time. In an act of petty revenge, Draco leaned forward and drawled lowly in the other boy’s ear, “I was just wondering what other things you could fit in your mouth.”

Harry made a strangled noise before spitting in the sink, and Draco couldn’t help but laugh.

“You arse, I nearly choked!’ Harry cried.

“It’s not my fault you have a dirty mind,” Draco smiled innocently before placing his toothbrush back on the counter. Harry followed him back into the bedroom with a grumble.

The both hopped on their beds and climbed beneath the covers. Using his wand, Draco shut off the lights, and silence enveloped them.

Draco fell asleep not long after.

* * *

Silver eyes snapped open.

Blinking profusely, Draco sat up and rubbed at his eyes, stifling a yawn as he turned to see what had woken him.

Harry was sitting up in bed, shaking.

“Potter?” Draco murmured.

He could barely make out the other boy snapping his head towards him.

“Draco? Sorry if I woke you, I just- just forgot where I was for a second,” he replied, voice shaky.

He couldn’t recall if he’d ever heard Harry sound so vulnerable before, and then he had an idea, an idea that was highly inappropriate for their relationship, but something Harry might appreciate, nonetheless. He decided that, just for the night, it would be worth it, because this wasn’t the Boy Who Lived, but just Harry. This wasn’t the boy who he’d argued with and despised, but just a child, lost and alone, who he was friends with, if only for the night.

Draco lifted his covers, scooting towards the edge of his bed.

“Come on,” he commanded, and without hesitating for nearly as long as Draco had predicted, Harry clambered into his bed. Pulling the covers back down over them both, Draco settled down for sleep.

He felt something brush his side, and he realized it was Harry’s tentative touch.

Draco took the hand, and interlaced their fingers.

If only just for the night, they were friends.

They both feel asleep soon after.

* * *

Draco furrowed his eyebrows when he felt a tug on his scalp.

He wrinkled and twitched his nose when the tugging sensation returned for a second time.

He glared sleepily at the offender when the tug reappeared for the last time.

“Your bed hair looks like a dandelion,” Harry sniggered.

Draco, not a morning person in the least, hid his face in his pillow. He heard Harry make a mocking croon, and then there was a hand patting his hair patronisingly. The action startled him, but only momentarily before he was relaxing into the touch.

Harry took his hand away.

“Don’t stop,” Draco mumbled into the pillow, and he heard another laugh before the fingers were back, massaging his scalp this time, and uselessly tangling his hair even more.

“I’m gonna braid it,” Harry announced, voice strong with challenge, as he tugged on the longer pieces and supposedly began braiding.

After a minute or so, he made a sound of triumph and poked an unresponsive Draco in the shoulder.

“Hey, come on. We have classes soon, don’t we? I even made your hair all nice. Well, one braid. The rest is still a mess. Good luck with that, mate.”

Grumbling the entire time, Draco did get up and shower. When Harry went to shower after him, the blond donned his robes and set out a second pair for Harry to borrow, as they hadn’t gotten around to owling anyone, yet.

Draco admired his recently-washed hair in the mirror. He’d long since outgrown slicking it back like his father, but it did take a little styling. He parted it unevenly and let the larger portion sweep his forehead with an elegant fringe. The rest he combed behind and ear, including the little braid Potter had created. He’d decided to leave it in for no other reason than to amuse Harry.

Just as the boy crossed his mind, said wizard left the bathroom, spotted the slytherin robes on his bed, and grabbed them. He returned to the bathroom to put them on, and while he was busy, Draco wrote an uncharacteristically polite letter to Granger, asking for a few changes of Potter’s clothing. He wasn’t sure how long the memory loss would last, but he decided an extra outfit wouldn't hurt.

After handing the message to his owl and sending him off, Draco heard the bathroom door open once more.

Seeing Harry in his Slytherin robes did funny things to his stomach. 

He noticed, distractedly, that Potter’s hair was still a birdnest of a mess. Without a word, he walked up to Harry and began preening him.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked amusedly.

“Fixing your hair. I refuse to be seen with someone who looks as though they just rolled out of bed.” 

Wordlessly summoning a clean brush, Draco parted Potter’s hair down the center and let the longer pieces frame his face attractively. It seemed as though none of Potter’s hair was the same length, so he settled with spiking the back in an  _ artfully  _ tousled manner that still displayed some semblance of order.

Stepping back, he admired his work.

“And when did I give you permission to mess with my hair?” Harry raised an eyebrow.

“When you messed with mine,” Draco sniffed snootily. “And I kept your stupid braid, so don’t ruin my work. It suits you, because unlike some people, I have a sense of style.”

Draco suddenly realized Potter wasn’t wearing his glasses yet, and with his hair brushed out of his face, his scar was on full display. His piercing green eyes, however, were more distracting.

“Oh? Do I meet your standards now?” Harry asked, smirking.

“You’re getting there,” Draco smirked right back. “Though I must say, the Slytherin colors help. Speaking of which, I owled Granger while you were changing.”

“Granger?” Harry furrowed his eyebrows.

“Sorry,  _ Hermione _ . She’s one of your Gryffindor friends, so I asked her if she would recover some of your clothes for you. I don’t mind terribly if you use my robes, but surely you’d at least prefer the Gryffindor tie.”

Harry shrugged noncommittally. “Yeah, okay. Are we going to breakfast soon?”

And so they did.

* * *

“See you later, Harry,” Weasley said hesitantly.

“Later, Ron,” Harry waved before walking straight towards Draco. They fell into step seamlessly.

“How was History of Magic?” Draco asked.

“Splendid,” Harry admitted with a grin, then it faltered. “It’s also very ironic that I can remember so much about about historic wizards and witches, yet nothing about myself.”

Draco nudged him with his elbow. “I saw you chatting with Weas-  _ Ron _ . How did that go?”

Harry’s expression brightened. “He’s really familiar. It feels like I’ve known him a long time, even though he had to reintroduce himself.”

“That’s fantastic,” Draco nudged him again, grinning encouragingly. Harry flushed a bit at the praise. “Why don’t you spend time with him, then? We have Potions together later on, I won’t mind.”

Harry shook his head. “Not right now,” he shrugged. “It’s true that Ron’s very familiar, but...”

“But?” Draco prodded absentmindedly, nodding to an amused Pansy across the hall.

He jumped a bit when Harry took his hand.

Right there.

In the hallway.

“But, you ground me,” Harry said, smiling widely. 

Draco flushed in an embarrassed kind of mortification, scowling at Pansy when she burst out laughing, slapping an amused Blaise on the back. 

“Draco?”

He slid his eyes back to a confused Harry, and forced himself to calm down. Sighing and sending one last warning glare to the cackling couple across the hall, the blond squeezed Harry’s hand and walked him to his next class.

* * *

“Even with memory loss, I can still beat you at Quidditch,” Harry said smugly.

Draco was too tired to argue, simply walking to his bed and flopping down. Then he wriggled onto his back and released a long groan. “Shiiiiiiiiiiiit.”

“What’s up, buttercup?” Harry smirked down at a worn Draco. “Your weak muscles aching?"

“It’d kick you if I could move my legs.” Draco glared, and the other boy laughed.

“I can tell. You’ve got that wet-cat look on your face.”

“And you’ve got that ugly look on your face. Oh wait, that’s permanent.”

“Oh, sod off. Don’t be such a sore loser. Pun intended.” Harry flopped down next to him and put a leg over one of Draco’s.

“Move your damn leg, Potter.”

“Make me. Oh wait, your muscles are too weak.” Harry grinned at him. 

Draco, exhausted from being forced into a few rounds of snitch-chasing with Harry, groaned defeatedly and raised an arm to drape over his eyes.

“Hey, I’m only joking.” Harry poked at his stomach. “I’ll stop teasing, it was a good game.” 

Draco swatted his hand away.

“Don’t touch what you can’t have,” the blond murmured, resting his eyes.

He felt a heavy weight settle on his torso, and when he peered down, Harry was grinning up at him.

“Does it count if I don’t use my hands?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “What are you, a cat? Too damn affectionate.”

“Meow,” Harry waggled his eyebrows ridiculously. “I can see up your nose from here, by the way.”

“Charming,” Draco said dryly.

Harry squinted. “Your eyelashes are awfully long.”

Draco sighed, and put his arm back over his eyes.

“Yes, well,” he pursed his lips, “my ‘awfully’ long eyelashes protect my eyes from unwanted dirt.”

“You must have good eyes, then,” Harry said, gingerly inching his way up Draco’s stomach. The blond didn’t mention it, curious as to what Harry was doing.

“I do,” he agreed. “Your glasses magnify your eyes, though.”

“Are you calling me geeky?” Harry asked, resting his cheek on Draco’s chest. The blond’s heart sped up a bit.

“Although I wouldn’t deny that,” Draco smirked briefly, “that’s not what I meant. Your eyes are an interesting color, and your glasses draw attention to them when your raggamuffin hair doesn’t get in the way.”

Harry laughed, and the vibration against his chest was rather pleasant.

“Raggamuffin?”

“Shut it. I’m too tired to think of witty insults.”

“I can tell,” Harry snorted. “By the way, my hair got me quite a few compliments.”

“Did it?" Draco asked. He moved his arm from his eyes and peered down to see the back of Harry’s head. Deciding it was unlikely Harry would mind, Draco acted on the urge to run his hands through the raven spikes.

“Mm,” Harry hummed, sounding rather tired, himself. “The compliments probably would have meant more to me, though, if I remembered who half of the people were.”

“It’s curious that you seem to remember everything, except other people,” Draco noted, pushing Potter’s hair forward and into his face, just to annoy him. However, Harry didn’t seem to mind.

“I don’t remember much about the Hogwarts houses, either,” Harry mumbled, “or where half my classes are. I don’t remember my parents, or my house, or my clothes, or why that Ginny girl keeps smiling at me.”

Draco laughed loudly before recollecting himself. 

“Maybe because she likes you?” Draco offered, fighting off another round of laughter.

“I can feel your chest shaking,” Harry deadpanned, “laugh if you want to. It feels weird when you hold it in.”

“Your face on  _ my chest  _ feels weird,” Draco countered. “So does your hair. It’s very thick back here,” he ran a hand through the jungle of inky spikes. After he’d made a royal mess of it, he began combing it back into  _ proper  _ place with his fingers. “My hands are so pale,” he commented randomly, “they look like piano keys against your hair.”

“It’s relaxing,” Harry said.

“You sound tired,” Draco agreed, and just as he did, the boy on his chest stifled a yawn.

“Your heartbeat, too,” Harry murmured. “I can hear it, it’s very calming.”

Draco responded with a mere hum, and settled with petting Potter’s head. It felt a little awkward, but only because he’d never done it before, not because it was unwelcome. 

Draco had never had the sort of friend Harry was, the kind of friend you spent your whole day with and didn’t grow tired of. The sort of friend you could spend hours flying with, and still laid next to later on, sweaty and exhausted, just to talk. He and Harry even still fought, but it was more witty banter than duels. Their insults lacked venom.

Draco, even if only for a day, wanted to stay Harry’s friend.

* * *

Draco was sitting at his desk, completing a few homework assignments, when Harry jerked up in his bed.

Turning to regard the other, Draco was startled when Harry snapped his eyes towards him.

“Harry?” he asked, concerned and wondering if the other had forgotten where he was again. It had been quite a few days since the last incident, but they’d slept in the same bed ever since, holding hands all night. 

Harry had gone to bed earlier than Draco that night, because the blond had essays that needed completing. It was almost eleven, and Draco’s dim  _ lumos  _ shouldn’t have woken him.

Harry just stared at him, looking very, very lost. 

Draco pushed away from the desk and approached. He sat down next to the boy.

“Harry? What’s wrong?” Frowning at the other’s pale face and heavy breathing, Draco thoughtlessly pressed his hand to Harry’s forehead, checking his temperature. “You look pale, but you don’t feel sick,” Draco mumbled.

“I-” Harry began, eyes darting all over Draco’s face, as if seeing him for the first time.

While waiting for the other to collect his thoughts, the blond reached forward and tugged a few of Harry’s wayward hairs back to frame his face.

“This mop of yours in untamable,” he snorted quietly, also bringing up his other hand so he could fix it more efficiently.

Harry abruptly grabbed the blond's wrists to stop his fussing, squeezing the joints momentarily.

“Harry?” Draco asked, surprised and more than a little confused.

Harry leaned forward, simultaneously pulling Draco’s wrists inwards. They were nearly nose to nose when Harry stopped pulling.

Harry tightened his grip on Draco's’ wrists, pressing their foreheads together intimately.

“You’re not who I thought you were,” Harry said softly. “Not at all. You’re funny, and adventurous, and endearing, and Merlin, you’re so  _ grounding _ . And I- I don’t want this to end. I like spending time with you, and talking with you, and having you mess with my hair, and that braid is so  _ fucking _ adorable, and I  _ remember  _ now, but it doesn't change how I feel,” he breathed, “and I want- I need-”

Draco bumped their noses before pulling away from Potter's grip.

“I wouldn’t mind staying friends,” he agreed.

Harry’s startled face broke into an embarrassingly goofy grin.

“Yeah?”

Draco pushed him away with a roll of his eyes. 

“Yeah.”

And the next day, Harry returned to his normal life, with a bonus of several Slytherin friends.

* * *

“Draco?” Harry asked, surprised, but still let the Slytherin in his dorm room. “What are you doing here? It’s,” Harry glanced at the clock on his wall, “ _ three in the morning _ .”

Draco ran a hand through his hair, looking huffy and insulted. “Well  _ excuse me _ for being worried. I just got your owl, sorry. I’d fallen asleep at my desk and-”

“My owl?” Harry asked, perplexed. “I didn’t call you over.”

“You said you had to turn down Ginny after she confessed to you,” Draco said in a voice that implied they meant the same thing. “Are you alright? Do you need to talk about it?”

Harry made a weird noise in the back of his throat. “You came all the way over here, as soon as you read my letter, because you thought... I might want to talk about it?”

“Of course,” the blond rolled his eyes. “I know she was your friend, above all, and that seeing her crushed probably crushed you in return. Do you want to talk about it?” he repeated patiently.

Harry made the strange noise again before striding forwards and enveloping a baffled Draco in a hug.

“Harry?” he asked slowly, hesitantly putting his arms around the other.

“This isn’t because I’m torn up over Ginny,” he murmured into Draco’s neck, making said boy shiver involuntarily, “though that did make me feel bad.”

“So this is about...?”

“You, silly,” he laughed softly, voice thick. “I can’t believe you came all the way over here for me, just because you thought I _possibly_ , just _maybe_ , was upset.”

“That’s what friends are for, right?” Draco grumbled, feeling embarrassed for apparently overreacting. 

Harry tightened the hug, taking a deep breath before he leaned back to peer at his friend.

“Yes. You’re a brilliant friend, Draco. That was very sweet of you.”

Draco scowled at being called sweet, and scowled even further when Harry had the gall to chuckle at him - at  _ him _ ! - and kiss him on the forehead like he was child.

“I’m lucky to have you.” He smiled crookedly. Draco huffed, crossing his arms.

“Damn right.”

* * *

“Morning, Harry,” Blaise greeted. “Nice to see you at the Slytherin table this morning, we missed you.”

Harry grinned up at him. “Yeah?”

Seeing his moment, Draco snuck a croissant off Harry’s platter.

“Of course,” Blaise smiled, sitting across from them. “You should have seen Pansy when Draco told her you got your memories back. She was acting as if you’d died in battle or something.”

“Luckily, the war ended a year ago,” Harry smiled. “I’m still surprised so many Slytherin returned, to be honest.”

“Most of us weren’t with You-Know-Who for giggles,” Blaise said lightly. They both looked to Draco, who froze mid-motion, half a croissant in his hand.

“What the-” Harry glanced at his nearly-empty plate. “You fiend!” he cried indignantly.

“I haven’t the foggiest what you’re talking about,” the blond said innocently. When Blaise made a motion to take the other croissants while Harry was glaring at Draco, said Slytherin sent his friend a subtle nod before distracting Harry further. It was a dual effort to start off Harry’s morning with silent schemes. “In fact, it’s your fault for completely ignoring me,” he sniffed.

Harry, predictably, softened. “Was I?”

“Didn’t even greet me,” Draco continued, “just plopped your fat arse down and began telling me about your Astronomy homework.” 

“I’m sorry, Draco. You know I appreciate you-”

“Do I?” Draco raised his nose dramatically. “I’ve been feeling rather  _ under _ appreciated, recently.”

Harry looked stricken. “Oh, Draco, I didn’t mean- hey!” He stared down at his empty plate in bafflement, then turned to a certain Blaise Zabini, who was grinning like the cat who got the cream. “You-” he turned back to Draco, face red with embarrassment, “you were teasing?” he asked, and Draco felt a little bad.

“Of course, Harry. You treat me like a king.” He rolled his eyes, though his genuine smile gave away his sincerity. “Now if only the rest of the school could follow your excellent example...”

Blaise snorted. “ _ Right _ .”

Before Draco could tell him exactly how he felt about the disbelief in his tone, Pansy sat down next to them with a delighted grin.

“Harry! How nice of you to join us.”

“Pansy,” Harry smiled at her.

“What were you three talking about?” she asked while piling some food on her plate.

“How everyone should follow Harry’s example and pine after Draco all day long,” Blaise snorted. Harry choked a bit, and Draco rolled his eyes.

“He doesn’t  _ pine _ ,” the blond corrected patiently, “he’s a good friend who happens to do anything I ask if I add a ‘please’.”

“So, basically the same thing?” Pansy grinned.

They laughed, but Harry looked distinctly uncomfortable, and Draco felt a little sick himself, but only because the thought of Harry liking him as more than a friend was... interesting.

Under the table, he grabbed Harry’s hand and squeezed it reassuringly. When questioning green eyes found his, he motioned to the cackling couple and rolled his eyes, trying to show they were just being annoying.

Harry smiled stiffly before squeezing back, and removing his hand.

Draco felt oddly rejected, but went back to eating.

* * *

“I think he hates me,” Draco groaned, hiding his face in his hands. He was on the couch in Pansy’s dorm room, practically curled in the fetal position.

Said girl rolled her eyes. “And why do you think this?” she drawled.

“He’s always scuttling around, ducking his head so I won’t see him, running into random hallways so we won’t cross paths - he’s resorted to spending all his time with Hermione and Ron, too! Admittedly, they’re rather likeable people when they’re in good moods, but still. What could have caused this change, except that he hates me? I just wish I knew what it was that sent him running. I wasn’t even trying to pester him,” the ‘this time’ went unsaid, “but ever since breakfast this morning...”

“When we teased him about pining after you?” Pansy asked, concern leaking into her voice. “Maybe he realized that you two do act like a couple.”

Draco wanted to deny that, but when he thought about it, he supposed they did, in some aspects.

“So he hates me because we act kind of gay?”

“You  _ are  _ gay,” the girl smirked, “Maybe he...” her smirk dropped. “Maybe he didn’t like the thought of you liking him.”

“Potter obviously has a little crush on me,” Draco rolled his eyes. “I’m not the best at friendships, but normal friends aren’t as touchy as that one is. No, he would have probably talked to me about it if he thought I liked him, even if it wasn’t to ask me out, then to at least clear up any misunderstandings.”

“Does he know you’re gay?” Pansy asked, instead.

Draco paused. “I never outright told him, but isn’t it sort of a known fact?”

“Draco!” Pansy scolded. “Harry’s not one to listen to gossip from the grapevine!”

“Gossip from the what?”

“He’s probably avoiding you because he thinks  _ you’re _ uncomfortable with the thought of him liking  _ you _ .”

“And when did I give him that impression?” Draco raised an eyebrow. “When I let him hug me all the damn time, or when he pecked me on the forehead and I didn’t shatter all the bones in his body?”

“Maybe when you corrected Blaise this morning? When he told you Harry was pining, and you were all, ‘he doesn’t  _ pine _ , he’s just a good friend who acts like a manservant’?”

Draco froze.

“Shit.”

“Go clear things up with your man,” Pansy shooed him off her couch, “and stop coming to my room whenever you have drama! I know we all feel you belong in the girl’s dorm, but dammit, it’s nearly three in the morning!”

* * *

For the next few days, Draco tried to catch Harry and talk. In lieu to his plans, it seemed Harry was trying even  _ harder _ to avoid him. Draco tried, he really did, but after three days of chasing smoke, he grew pissed.

Throwing caution to the wind, Draco stormed up to the Gryffindor tower one night, the painting gladly letting him in after he fluttered his eyelashes and reminded her he and Harry were best friends.

Then, he snuck in the shadows to Harry’s dorm room, pleased to find that picking the lock the muggle way had worked (damn Hogwarts and their anti-magic locks). Slipping inside, he hoped to Merlin that Ron was still spending his nights at Hermione’s.

No one was in the room, so after snooping around and discovering a fucking  _ invisibility cloak _ (“Dammit, Harry! Is this how he’s been avoiding me all these years? That little  _ shit _ !”), he settled down to seethe on Harry’s bed.

After stewing for a few hours in his own irritation, glancing at the invisibility cloak he  _ knew  _ was there every once in awhile, just to renew is vexation, Draco was well and ready to rip Harry a new one when that wanker finally showed up.

But then when Harry did, exhaustedly turning on the lights and completely overlooking a shocked blond, he slumped on his bed.

Harry looked terrible.

He had bags under his eyes, his hair was even messier than usual (a feat Draco hadn’t though possible until then), and his clothing was wrinkled. He looked like he’d fallen victim to many sleepless nights and stressful days. He looked weary and worn, and in an instant, Draco’s anger left him.

Damn friendship and its forgiving qualities.

Sighing loudly, Draco slapped a startled Harry on the back. Said boy shot up in panic.

“Draco?”

“Harry,” he greeted dryly.

“What- what are you doing here?” his green eyes flew around the room frantically.

“I came here with the full intention of beating the snot out of you,” he half-lied, “but lost my nerve. You look like shit. It would be like kicking a puppy, which I refuse to do again.”

“What-”

“In my defense, it was a starving puppy.”

“ _ What the fuck _ ?” Harry hissed, and Draco laughed.

“That was a lie, but it got you to look me in the eye, didn’t it?”

Harry deflated with a long sigh, his shoulders drooping in defeat. When he careened forward, Draco didn’t hesitate to lead the slumped form again his chest, absentmindedly combing Harry’s hair with his fingers as the boy buried his face in his neck.

“Want to tell me why you’ve been avoiding me, now?” he asked, voice soft.

Harry shook his head, nuzzling his nose deeper.

“Yes, well, unless you explain, I’m sad to say I’ll be revoking your touching privileges,” Draco scoffed.

Harry’s hands came up to wrap around him, tucking himself completely against Draco.

“No. You can’t leave,” he murmured.

“I wasn’t going to.” Draco played with the little curls at Harry’s nape, not sure what he was referring to. The room? Their relationship? Any possible romantic developments? “I’m not going to leave.”

“Okay,” Harry took a deep breath, and Draco was under the impression he was smelling him. “I missed you,” he said.

“I missed you, too,” Draco admitted, “but I wasn’t able to remedy that problem,” he added bitterly. 

Harry hugged him tighter.

“You know at breakfast? When Blaise and Pansy...?”

“Yes,” Draco hummed, skirting a hand down Harry’s back before sliding it back up, again and again.

“I... I- you’re distracting me,” he said, voice oddly breathy.

“Sorry.” Draco placed his hand on the bed.

Harry took another deep breath. “I... I  _ do  _ pine after you,” he said quietly, “all the time.”

“I know,” Draco said.

“ _ No _ , Draco, I... I don’t want you to just casually overlook this. I don’t want anything to change, but I just need some time to get over it-”

“You don’t want anything to change, or you don’t expect anything to?” Draco asked. 

Harry leaned back to peer up at him through his hair.

“I don’t want you to feel obligated to-”

“I don’t feel obligated to do anything,” Draco quipped, pushing Harry back firmly by his chest. He looked Harry in the eyes as he said, “I’m gay, Harry. I honestly thought you knew, but when Pansy was consoling me while I mourned the loss of my friend,” he mentioned with a pointed look, “she voiced that, perhaps, you were avoiding me because you thought I was uncomfortable. I’m not, really, and even if I was, you’d have known by now, considering I've known you at least  _ somewhat  _ liked me for a while. If you just  _ asked  _ about it, you know I find you very attractive.”

Harry gaped at him. “What? But... why didn’t you  _ say  _ anything?”

“I always considered you the confontal type,” Draco said, a tad defensively, “I thought that if you actually wanted to pursue something with me, you’d say so, because, again, I thought you knew my sexual preference.”

“I didn’t,” Harry shook his head, but he was grinning. “You find me attractive?”

Draco smirked and, discarding any hesitance, lightly pecked Harry on his nose before sliding from the bed.

“Good night,” he called, leaving the dorm just as quietly as he’d snuck in.

* * *

“So how did it go?” Pansy asked, vibrating with excitement. Apparently she’d told Blaise, because he was also curious.

They were all freezing their asses off on the bleachers by the Quidditch field, pretending to watch Harry and Ron practice, when really, it was just an excuse to meet up with Hermione, who was showing Ron her support. They didn’t see her around much, and she truly was an extraordinary girl when they all put aside their differences to just talk.

“How did what go?” she asked.

“Draco went to talk to Harry about their ‘feelings’,” Pansy giggled.

Draco scowled at her.

“Oh?” Granger raised an eyebrow, but she was also smiling. “It’s about time. Harry kept moping around because he refused to believe us when Ron and I told him you wouldn’t react badly. It’s not my place, so I didn't tell him how likely it was that you fancied him back, but we tried to convince him to talk to you.”

“And?” Blaise turned expectantly to Draco. “How did it go?”

Draco opened his mouth to respond, when he heard another call his name. All four students turned to the field where Ron and Harry were trudging towards them. Hermione got up to meet her boyfriend, and with a roll of her eyes, dragged a protesting Draco along with her. Pansy and Blaise cackled with amusement, catcalling and asking him when the marriage was going to be.

Ignoring them with practiced ease (glaring and insulting them with his oh-so-classy hand gestures), Draco turned to see Harry grinning at him widely. 

In two steps, Harry crossed the distance between them and laced their fingers together. Draco was the one who leaned in, and then they were pressing their foreheads together and grinning like the goofy kids they were.

“Harry,” he greeted.

“Draco,” the other responded, squeezing their hands reassuringly.

“How was practice?” he asked.

“You were supposed to be watching,” Harry snorted.

“Ah, I’ve given myself away,” he purred, “I was distracted by your delectable-”

“Oh my god!” Pansy squealed, finally catching up. “You two are so cute!”

“Disturbingly so,” Blaise agreed.

“My delectable what?” Harry ignored them, eyes sharp as he squeezed their hands again. Draco smirked before pulling an innocent face.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he smiled, stepping back. Harry let him go reluctantly.

“Get a room, you two!” Hermione teased, and hey boyfriend looked between the two of them with mild discomfort, but definite amusement.

“After lunch, at least?” Blaise whined, rubbing his stomach dramatically. “I'll warn you right now that sex on an empty stomach is bullocks.”

They spent the next couple hours going out to lunch.

As Harry spoke to Ron and Blaise about something, Draco used the boys’ directed attention to his advantage by stealthily stealing pasta from Harry’s plate. Ron noticed and, with a cough, sent Harry a significant look. 

Confused, Harry turned to find Draco innocently talking with Hermione and Pansy about Unicorns and their strange attraction towards virgins, when really, having sex shouldn’t label someone as ‘impure’, especially since virginity was such a nebulous thing. What if the girl was a total slut at heart? Mentally, she would be as filthy as they come. Or did it go by the breaking of a woman’s hymen? In that case, a hymen can be broken by several everyday activities, most not even involving any sort of penetration, such as stretching or horseback riding.

Highly disturbed, Harry returned to Blaise and Ron’s conversation about far more manly things.

They were asking how he got his hair that way, and whether the shine was genetic, or he was using some kind of special potion. Just as Harry was about to disclose Draco as his current hairdresser, Ron shifted his eyes again.

Harry turned back around to find the girls (and Draco) discussing their choice of pets after school. Surprisingly, Draco seemed very keen on a teacup dragon of some sort, even though they were expensive, temperamental little creatures.

Harry turned back around once more, but from the corner of his eyes, just managed to catch Draco’s wicked smirk.

He glanced at his magically half-empty plate. 

Ah.

When Ron sent him another look, Harry spun around and planted a surprise kiss on a startled Draco Malfoy.

“Don’t eat all my food,” he said seriously, but his triumphant smirk gave away his amusement.

Draco merely blinked, then, “If that’s my punishment, I really don’t see why I should stop.”

* * *

**The End.**

**Extra Scenes:**

* * *

“Potter!” Draco called, bursting into said boy’s dorm room.

“Oi!” Ron sputtered, quickly covering his bare chest with his hands. His pants were haphazardly slipping on his hips, leading Draco to conclude he had barged in just as Ron was getting changed. Mission accomplished, then. It was always worth it to get the weasel riled up.

Draco, aiming to rile him more, raised a superior eyebrow. “I assure you, Weasley, your breasts are of no interest to me.”

Ron paused, flushed, then dropped his hands.

“Ever heard of knocking?” he sneered.

“Don't be a grump, Weasel, I come bearing gifts.” Tossing the redhead one of his bags with a cheeky quirk of his lips, Draco was pleased when Ron peered inside and grinned up at him.

“Rudeness forgiven, Ferret. Cake is my weakness, mate.”

Draco released a snort before turning to an amused Harry.

“You called?” Potter asked, finally crossing the room to stand before the blond. When he reached out, Draco didn't hesitate before taking the broad hands in his own.

“I did.” He smiled, lifting one of his arms to show off the last bag hanging off of it. He still held Harry’s hand, however, so it almost looked as though-

“Are we dancing?” Harry asked.

“There is a natural elegance to my movements, yes,” Draco smirked.

“A natural what?” Potter asked innocently, and Weasley laughed.

“Fine,” Draco sniffed, untangling their fingers and crossing his arms. “To think I'd even gotten you a gift while shopping yesterday.”

“Shopping?” Ron echoed, looked oddly amused by the prospect. “You went “shopping”?”

“Is that strange?”

“Not at all,” the redhead sniggered.

Ignoring him, Draco turned an expectant stare to Harry, who looked delighted.

“You got me something?” he asked, voice soft and smile wide. “You didn't have to do that.”

“That wasn't the intention of my trip,” Draco agreed, “but I knew you would find the gift endearing.”

“What is it?”

Holding out the bag with only mild hesitance (he wasn't nervous, dammit, just... anxious. Shut up), Draco watched with baited breath as Harry reached into the bag and pulled out a jar.

The glass, though at room temperature, was frosted with intricate swirls that swayed like sailing wind. On one side of the glass, a snowy owl fluttered its wings and cocked its head to regard awed green eyes staring back at it.

The lid of the jar was blue, decorated beautifully with twinkling stars and the faintest rosy hues of a sunset, far off.

Harry looked up at Draco.

“Draco, this,” he looked at the jar, then back to the blond, “this is beautiful.”

Draco flushed, and grinned widely. “Open it up, Harry.”

Handling the jar gingerly, Harry unscrewed the lid and peered inside.

He pulled out a slip of paper.

“What does it say?” Ron asked, sitting on the edge of his bed so he could get a better look.

“‘Do you know what my shirt’s made of? Boyfriend material’.”

When Harry looked up, one side of his smile lifted higher than the other, making it charmingly crooked, and Draco knew he was in love.

“The lady at the store told me I had to put a message inside.” Draco forced a shrug, hoping his face wasn't as red as it felt. “I thought you'd like the jar because of the owl. I know you loved Hedwig,” he trailed off.

“You’re perfect,” Harry said, and when Draco met his eyes, he realized Harry wasn't talking to the jar, and something in his stomach fluttered.

“You're turning me into a cheeseball,” Draco groaned in mock distress.

“I love it,” Harry grinned so wide it was embarrassing, and he pulled Draco into the kind of hug that was warm and intimate and  _ close _ , and realized Harry hadn't really been talking about the jar that time, either.

* * *

Draco sat between Ron and Hermione at the table, surprised to find his plate already occupied by a banana. Half confident it was some sort of poor poke at his sexuality, Draco was hesitant in sitting down. However, upon closer inspection, there were words carved into the peel.

_ I’m bananas for you _ ,  _ let's never split! _

Draco couldn't withhold his snort. “This,” he gestured to the fruit, “is beautiful. Harry?” he guessed.

When arms snuck around his middle from behind and a soft peck was planted of his cheek, he got his answer.

“Like my gift?” Harry asked, sliding into the seat across from the blond. They promptly began kicking each other under the table.

“Love it,” Draco laughed. “Please tell me you didn't sneak in here earlier just to carve into the peel of this fruit.”

“I may have woken up a little earlier than usual,” Harry shrugged modestly.

“Nevermind that he was up all night trying to find a cute way to impress you,” Ron snorted into his cup. He then jumped with cry of of pain, sending a dark glare to his girlfriend who innocently poked at her food. Harry’s face was bright red.

“Well, it worked,” Draco gave Harry a pointed nudge with his foot under the table, “I think you're very cute,” he grinned.

Harry’s face darkened in color. “I meant the fruit,” he muttered.

“Yes, but I can't snog the fruit for being terribly adorable, now can I.” Draco gave a casual sort of shrug and turned to talk with Hermione, pointedly ignoring Harry’s doubly flustered expression, and Ron’s obnoxious gagging noises.


End file.
